Unspoken
by Fogs of Gray
Summary: He loved them. It wasn't an act of responsibility. In that moment, his consciousness wavering, he admitted that he loved them.


Ehhhh...This one feels like rubbish, I must admit. *nervously laughs* But I tried. Even if that was a sap ending. :/ Forgive me?

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

SPOILERS: Definitely Beautiful Creatures.

* * *

Macon closed his eyes for a moment before standing and shrugging on his coat. "Where are you off to, 'Cubus?" The meeting had been less than optimal. Casters were convinced he would kill one of them, that he had 'played spy' for the other side. He wanted to inform them that the Dark hardly thought eloquently of him. They certainly didn't need him, a battered exile, to win this war. He flashed a forced smile.

"While this meeting has been brilliant, I'm afraid I have a different affair to attend." He knew the rumors this would raise. His eyes narrowed slightly as the Casters glanced at each other.

"Can't you skip it?" His hand twitched.

"It demands my attendance. I'm sure you can figure this out, though. It's a simple issue." He was about to nod his exit when another question was asked.

"Off to see your human?" He visibly stiffened. His smile dimmed a fraction. The Caster leaned to his right to whisper in the other's ear. "I hear he still loves her-" He suppressed a growl. His personal affairs were none of their business. *I'll be damned if-* The thought cut off. *I won't let them drag her name through the mud.*

"A birthday, actually."

"Oh really? Last I recall, 'Cubus, you didn't have children. Scared you'll end up just like daddy? Or that you'll be worse?" The murmured after sentence hit him. "It would be hard, unless he takes to screwing his children." Macon allowed his urges to come to the front of his mind. He could see the Caster's jugular artery throbbing just beneath the surface. It would be so easy...a tiny mental Cast...a simple misstep... He shook his thoughts from that road. A small chuckle escaped him.

"If I remember correctly, I'm the only Demon allied with you. If I were you, I would remember how easy it could be for someone, such as you, to disappear." He paused for a moment, as though they needed time to think. "Good-bye, gentlemen. I trust we'll meet again?" Before they had a chance to answer, he left them.

They met again. There wasn't any way around it. It was business. They didn't question him again, however, when his yearly absences were brought up. He never spoke of it. His tactic had worked. They never put uncle against his family again. To the best of their knowledge, he could have been lying the entire time. None of them had the courage to ask.

* * *

He sat in his study, his head bowed towards the desktop. His hands were pressed firmly against his temples. His eyes closed. His lips a thin, pale line. His breaths inaudible gasps. His skin trembled. His entire body was shaking from it all. _Damn it all... _He forced himself to breathe slower.

It shouldn't have reacted this way. The Bind should have kept its place among the rest, further instilling the protective wards of Ravenwood Manor. Of course, it hadn't. And here he was, the Binds slamming against him as they collapsed around him. Here he was, stuck where his body had failed him, trying in a futile attempt to look into a counter Cast.

He thoroughly hoped the thunderous clamor hadn't woken the children. Or alerted any of the numerous threats that frequented the area. He swallowed thickly. He could feel the tremendous pressure of 'magic' pressing against his eardrums. He could practically feel the power draining from him. A fine sheen of sweat slid against his palms.

It was then the door to the Tunnels slammed open. He shot out of the chair before he could comprehend, a defensive Cast a breath away. When he thought back on it only days later, he would wonder if he would have survived the Cast alone. His vision darkened suddenly. He was about to start when a familiar pair of dazed green eyes peeped around the study. "Macon? Are you alright?" He breathed a brief sigh. Her eyes met his. "What on Earth did you do to yourself?" She rushed forward in time to help him to the floor. "Where's Boo?"

He leaned into her touch. "With the children."

"What were you thinking, Macon?"

"The Binds needed restored. One, in particular, was too weak to defend against anything. If-" A weak cough caught in his throat. "If something were to make it inside..." He shivered. "I would rather be overly protective than lose any one of them, Del." He focused on breathing for a few seconds. "The Binds collapsed. We'll have to move the children and start again. I don't want them anywhere near Ravenwood for a few months." She shook her head.

"I'll fetch Ryan?" The man never answered her. After he had healed, they (Barclay, Leah, Delphine and himself) had rebuilt the Binds better than before. When they needed restored, they did it together, to avoid such an event from occurring again. He told himself he tried that night because he had to. It was his responsibility as their guardian to protect him. He drew the line there. He didn't think about it again until a February night, when Delphine had pulled him close and her hesitating words had reminded him. He concluded, that night, it was as much out of responsibility as love for the children.

* * *

He knew it was going to happen eventually. Someone would get it in their head that Ravenwood was unprotected . It would be an easy attack, with only Macon to guard the Manor. He had expected it, had been planning for the last two months while rebuilding the Binds with the children away. He had been off by three days. He was sitting in the library at the time, as his study was locked from both sides.

He had reasoned it to extreme caution. If any Cubi had found themselves in his home, even by complete accident (which he hardly ever believed in), they would waste away. Of course, if they had the mind to, they could call him and ask for help. Not surprisingly, no one opted to break into his study.

A slight creak had notified him of the break in. Anyone who had business entering the home knew that the porch creaked. Macon had kept his eyes trained on the book he was reading. If asked, he wouldn't remember a word. He could hear the distinct tattoo of a heart. A beat and a silence. It hit him over and over until the door opened. He waited for the intruder to dodge a few of the Binds before worrying. Not that he worried excessively, if you asked him he would say he worried enough. He Cast against the invader until he was sure they wouldn't come back. It wasn't until later when he remembered it was a Caster. The intruder couldn't have done any real damage. At the time it hadn't mattered. The only conscious thought was that the Caster was a threat. Not to him, but to the children. Later he realized the children weren't even in the country at the time.

* * *

It finally hit him the night of his death. The Wate boy had left to enjoy the party. _Ethan, Macon. His name's Ethan._ He assumed he was going crazy, hearing her voice in his head. It slammed into him when Reece hugged him. Her barely a breath whisper struck him harder than anything had. "Good luck, Uncle M." He nodded slightly. Had he been able to cry, he had no doubt he would be. She didn't say that she loved him. That she would try to save him. Or that she would miss him. _Good luck._ As though it was pushed by a force as simple as luck. As though he could escape its grip, even as he felt its fiery hands burning through him. It hurt.

He understood then that all his fighting had achieved something. That once everything was said, and a death achieved, the children would move on. It would be hard, he expected the first few hours would be hell for them, but they were young. They would forget.

Laying on the ground, his thoughts slipping out of focus, he remembered them. His tongue was heavy, his senses slow, but he could remember. Warm, familiar touches wiped phantom tears with barely tangible movements. Lila. A giggle sounding to the right of him. Reece. Small hands clutching him closer. Lena. His left hand being pulled to the sleeping child's cheek. Larkin. A young woman's body pressed agains the back of the chair he occupied, her hands covering his eyes. Ridley. He remembered every one of them and he knew. He knew that he protected them not out of duty, but out of love.


End file.
